


Children of the Planet

by Masu_Trout



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mother Complex, Not Compilation-Compliant, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midgar is in ruins, humanity is suffering, and the Planet is being wracked by an illness no one can cure. Sephiroth has only one goal: find Aerith Gainsborough, the last living Cetra, before it’s too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lacus Spei

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [Hokuto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto), who helped me out immensely by beta-ing this!

The Forgotten Capital was solemn and still, quieter than any place Sephiroth had traveled to before.

It was everything Midgar wasn’t–the place he’d once called his home city was a constant bustle of noise and life, an eternally-changing marvel that was only too happy to toss aside the past for the excitement of a better future. Its instability had always frustrated Sephiroth.

This place, though, was making him miss Midgar.

The thick dust muffled his footsteps as he stepped through yet another empty room. The artistry and skill apparent in every building was almost breathtaking–even the smallest and plainest of them would have sold for millions of gil in Midgar. The lifelessness of the city, though, gave its beauty an eerie tone; it reminded Sephiroth of the ancient kings and pharaohs he’d read about as a child, shut away in their stone tombs.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what it must have been like once, when every house was filled.

“Hey, Sephiroth!” Zack’s voice, always loud and louder still here, echoed across the rooftops. “Have you found anything?”

Sephiroth peered outside. Zack stood outside a house near the one Sephiroth had been investigating, leaning against the doorway.

“I haven’t yet,” Sephiroth admitted. “Nothing I think is relevant, anyway.” This whole place was fascinating–in another life he would have loved to study it. “How about yourself?”

Zack shrugged. “I’m not sure, actually… I mean, it’s something, but it’s really weird. I don’t know if it means anything.”

Zack normally had fantastic instincts; if he thought there was something even potentially important, it might well end up being vital to them.

“Show me,” Sephiroth said.

Zack led him into the house he’d been exploring, then over to the corner of what might once have been a kitchen. There, on the floor, was a strange shimmering substance. It had the shape of a bubble of mercury, but shone even brighter than mako. The surface gleamed white and strange shapes seemed to twist within its depths-- Sephiroth felt as though he could make them out if only he leaned a little closer.

“I poked at it,” Zack said, “But nothing happened.” He laughed. “Well, unless it’s poison, and I just haven’t keeled over yet.

Sephiroth sighed. He’d always assumed Zack would get at least a _little_ more cautious with age, but his near-suicidal curiosity was apparently non-temperable.

Sephiroth reached out one finger and gently prodded the surface of the shallow pool.

_It was not yet noon, and the capital’s square bustled with people from every corner of the world. Merchants stood in the shade of buildings or the mouths of alleyways, hawking their wares with an almost desperate zeal, but they went ignored. Today, the splendor of the capital was but an afterthought in people’s minds._

_Already, the monstrosity had killed a thousand of their people. Tomorrow, it might kill a thousand more. People had begun to flock here in droves, desperate for news on how they would kill the monstrosity. (And, some of them whispered, whether it could be killed at all.)_

_The Cetra had gathered, searching for answers, but still the palace doors remained shut._

Sephiroth pulled back with a gasp. His heart raced, his vision was blurred, and his hands were trembling. The memories of the Cetra pulsed through him–he could feel their fear, their willingness to fight.

“Sephiroth?” Zack asked worriedly. His voice was like an anchor; Sephiroth let it steady him against the current of these strangers’ emotions.

He wasn’t one of them, he reminded himself. No matter what he’d believed, no matter what _she’d_ told him, he wasn’t (couldn’t be) one of their people. He was more a part of the monster they feared than he was the Cetra.

Sephiroth stood, shaking Zack’s hand off his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. He took a breath, forced his heartbeat to calm. He might not have been SOLDIER any longer, but he was still a soldier. “It took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Zack frowned. “So what is it, then?”

“It’s... memories. Memories of the Cetra, condensed into a liquid form.”

Zack started. “Does that mean-” He broke off, glanced at the liquid once again. “Do you think Aerith’s the one who made them, then?”

He was trying hard to look casual, but Sephiroth could see the tension in his body as he shifted back and forth.

“No,” he said. “These are much older. I think they’re from the ones who once lived here.”

Zack sighed.

“We’ll find her,” Sephiroth said firmly.

“Yeah.” Zack smiled at him. “You’re right. I’m sure we will.”

Together they searched the ruined city. It was a strangely pristine place; there was no sign of destruction or upset, no clue as to what could have forced an entire city of people to leave or die. Many of the houses still had small trinkets or simple dishware laid out, as if the family inside had simply walked out into the night and left everything behind.

It made no sense.

Four times more they came across the small silvery pools. They were like beacons to Sephiroth; maybe they could explain the Cetra’s fate or give him more insight into what Aerith’s plan might be. But each time he stopped before the pool, unable to reach out and connect with the ancient memories. His breath would quicken again, his heart would race, and after a time he would pull away.

Shameful as it was, he was afraid. He knew what the Cetra had fought, and he knew the kind of destruction that monster could cause-

_(the destruction he’d once caused for her)_

-and he didn’t want to see that creature ever again.

Zack must have noticed his hesitation, but he didn’t say anything. As exuberant as he was, he could be surprisingly tactful sometimes.

It wasn’t until the sun was going down, throwing long shadows across the city, that Zack looked up from their work.

“We should join up with the others. I think I saw a building back there that had something kinda bed-like left. It would be nice not to sleep in tents again, right?”

“I’m not tired.”

Zack rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s getting dark and we don’t know what’s out here.”

“Zack, we’re SOLDIERs.”

“ _Ex-_ SOLDIERS.”

“Nonetheless,” Sephiroth replied. “We can see in the dark. And there’s not likely to be anything here that can stand up to us.”

Zack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sephiroth. Just because we _can_ do something doesn’t mean we should. When’s the last time you got more than four hours of sleep?”

Sephiroth scowled. Zack was always so fussy about his health. It was a pointless thing to fret over–he’d been bred and designed to work in far harsher conditions than these.

“Look,” Zack said. “I know you want to find Aerith.” He bit his lip, glanced towards the ground. “Trust me, I do too. But there’s no point in you driving yourself like this.”

“If we find Aerith-”

“If we find Aerith, it will be because she wants to be found. This is the Ancients’ city; there’s no way for us to know it like she does.”

They were so close. When they’d first picked up her trail, it had been little more than a rumor–a girl in pink had been to North Corel, no, Junon, no, Mideel–for a while they hadn’t been sure she was out here at all. It was entirely possible that her disappearance had been a red herring; she very well could have died within Midgar like so many others.

Eventually, though, rumors had turned to hearsay and hearsay had become sightings. They _knew_ she had come to this city only days ago; if they lost her once again he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Sephiroth’s mind flashed guiltily the pools of memory. Surely it meant something that they’d permitted him to see that? Perhaps he was meant to delve into the glimmering drops, search out the secrets of the city. Find the path that Aerith had taken, even if it pained him.

“The Cetra memories,” he said reluctantly. “If I look within them-”

“ _No!_ ”

Sephiroth blinked, shocked by the viciousness with which Zack had snarled the word.

“Absolutely not,” Zack snapped. “Sephiroth, those were _hurting you_. You can’t just throw yourself into any kind of danger because you think you’ll survive it!”

“You think I won’t, then? That I’m not strong enough?” The words slipped out without thinking, loud and angry. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice like that.

Zack’ breath caught. He slumped, and the anger drained out of him. “That’s not it. I promise you, Sephiroth, that’s not it at all. I’ve never thought you were weak.”

Sephiroth shifted, sudden guilt crawling through him. “I didn’t mean to say that.” Zack was one of the few people he’d ever known who neither looked up to him nor down to him, but considered him an equal. A friend, even, though what Zack wanted with a friend like him he’d never been able to understand.

Zack sighed. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He smiled at Sephiroth; the expression was small, but no less genuine for it. “I know you can make it through, but that doesn’t mean I like to see you getting hurt.”

Sephiroth nodded–he didn’t know how to respond to that properly. Finally, he said. “On second thought, I think you’re right. We should collect our group and find a place to rest for the night.”

Despite what Shinra’s higher-ups used to say, he wasn’t completely inflexible. He just hoped Zack knew to take it for the apology it was.

“All right!” Zack smiled widely and pulled out his PHS. “I’m so ready to have a proper roof over my head.”

It had to be an act, at least somewhat; even Zack didn’t bounce back that quickly. But Sephiroth was more than happy to pretend not to see that.

\---

They met up with Vincent and Lucrecia near the entrance to the towering amphitheatre. Vincent nodded at him, face obscured by his cowl, and Lucrecia stepped forward. Her fingers twitched briefly, as though she were going to reach out to him but had decided against it.

“Have you found anything?” she asked. Her gaze was fixed on a point slightly above him and to his left.

Sephiroth shook his head. “We found some artifacts, and some sort of liquid, but…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence. Unsure how much he wanted this stranger who called herself his mother to know.

In the end, Zack rescued him. “We couldn’t do anything with it, and we didn’t want to touch it just in case. I may have, uh, poked at it a bit, though.”

Lucrecia smiled faintly. “Yes, we found much the same. I doubt you’ll suffer any ill effects from the solution–Vincent says it seems very old, and likely harmless.”

“Oh?” Sephiroth asked.

Vincent stepped forward, joining the conversation. “Correct. I could sense only that much, however.” That wasn’t uncommon for him; the monsters in his head tended to be cooperative only insofar as it kept their host alive.

“I wish we could be here on other business,” Lucrecia said softly. “There is so much here I would love to study, given the time.” Her smile turned inward, distant.

“I know what you mean. It’s a fascinating city.”

Lucrecia was a strange woman, Sephiroth thought. Her demeanor was bizarrely docile for someone with as terrifyingly sharp a mind as hers. Often during conversation she would gaze off into the distance, seeming to be in her own world entirely, only to rejoin their discussion with some important information or well-thought-out plan.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she had always been this way, or if this was some personality trait she had gained while encased in her crystal cocoon. He’d been meaning to ask Vincent for some time, but the man could be frustratingly hard to start a conversation with. Sephiroth had gained some sympathy for the people back in Shinra who complained about his own taciturn nature.

“Well!” Zack said brightly. “We thought it would be a good idea to find somewhere to rest for the night. I think I found a building that would work well.”

“That’s fine with me,” Lucrecia said, and Vincent’s lack of objection was agreement enough.

Zack led the way through the winding streets of the city, past dozens of small buildings. Each was entirely unique: some were made entirely of seastone, others had roofs carved from enormous conch shells, and still others had walls embedded with fossilized shells and windows studded with jewel-bright sea glass. As they went, he chattered freely about the things they’d seen within; the creek that ran through one house, the carved-glass fish statue within another. Not for the first time, Sephiroth found himself envious of Zack’s open nature. Despite having three quiet companions, he never seemed uncomfortable.

Finally, they arrived at the house Zack had mentioned. It had been built within one of the conch shells and wound tightly around itself. The floor was made of sturdy wood, still unrotting after thousands of years, and there were indeed something approaching beds made of a light, springy wood on the second floor. It wasn’t quite on the level of Midgar’s comforts, but once they’d laid their bedrolls on top it was pleasant enough–certainly, Sephiroth thought, better than another night spent on the hard-packed dirt.

They ate quickly and quietly. Sephiroth was surprised to realize that he was actually very  hungry; even the rations tasted almost decent.

There was a sense of foreboding in the air, a crawling feeling that crept down Sephiroth’s spine. It occurred to him that, no matter how desperately he’d searched for Aerith, he’d never truly believed he might not find her. She was waiting for him here, somewhere within the Forgotten Capital, and it was only a matter of time before they came face to face.

He knew little about the woman except what Zack and Tseng had told him, and each of them was biased in their own way. Zack said she’d been a beautiful, vibrant woman, with a cheerful smile and a kind word for anyone; he was so very sure she could not have done what she was accused of, that there must be some misunderstanding. Tseng had been much less revealing (unsurprising, considering his personality and the circumstances involved), but he had spoken of a powerful girl with a love for humanity, one who bore a great sense of responsibility and a greater sense of mercy. It had been clear that he, too, assumed Aerith’s innocence.

Sephiroth didn’t know what to believe. He trusted Zack more than he trusted even himself. But he couldn’t forget what he’d seen (who he’d seen) standing in the heart of the vibrant and dying Midgar.

He had no right to judge, not after what he’d done to Wutai, to Nibelheim. But if she was truly a danger to humanity, then he would be her executioner.

Zack brushed the back of his hand lightly, bringing him out of his stupor. Sephiroth started; he’d been staring at his empty ration bar wrapper for the past few minutes.

“We’ve got more, if you’re still hungry.” Zack grinned, waved another packet at him. “Three different delicious flavors.”

“Cardboard, mud, or tree bark,” Sephiroth finished. It was a common joke from the Wutai War, though not a particularly accurate one–he’d eaten tree bark before, and it was actually fairly tasty. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Just…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

“Tired?” Zack asked.

Sephiroth nodded. It was a close enough answer to the truth.

“Yeah, me too.” Zack yawned. “Hard to believe it’s barely nine o’clock.”

“It may be early, but we should all rest.” Vincent cut in quietly.

Lucrecia nodded. “The earlier we wake, the better–there might be clues we can find more easily with changed lighting.” She glanced at him as she spoke, concern in her eyes.

Sephiroth shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to having a mother, didn’t understand how to respond to her worry.

“I agree,” he said shortly, and that was the end of the conversation.

\---

Sleep did not come easy for Sephiroth.

He’d claimed the bed nearest to the wall, and let Zack take the one next to him. Zack’s presence was always a great comfort; the glint of the Buster Sword in the dim light, the evenness of his breathing, and the soft noises as he shifted in his sleep were familiarities even in this strange place.

Sephiroth breathed slowly, trying to match his own breathing to Zack’s. No matter where they slept, be it a luxury hotel or a muddy trench, Zack somehow managed to doze off the moment he was horizontal.

Here, especially, his friend’s presence felt like a shield. It was embarrassing to admit–even if Vincent or Lucrecia were to betray him, he could almost certainly overpower either–but his newest allies made him uncomfortable. Both seemed to feel some sort of guilt over him; their stilted attempts at sympathy always left him feeling awkward.

Though, he reminded himself, he had no room to complain. It was he who’d gathered the two and allowed them (asked them) to join Zack and himself on their journey. More hands were always helpful, and he certainly could have chosen himself worse allies.

He shifted quietly, begging for sleep to come. The tension that had plagued him all day refused to unravel, and his thoughts wouldn’t stop wandering. On Zack’s other side, Lucrecia was snoring softly, and Vincent… well, Sephiroth wasn’t sure the man _slept_ at all, exactly–his eyes didn’t close and his behavior reminded Sephiroth more of someone in a meditative state–but he was still and his breathing had evened out.

It was Vincent he’d found first. He’d travelled to Nibelheim, the scene of his every nightmare, in hopes of finding the answers his father wouldn’t give him. (And, though he’d never admit it to anyone, to pay his respects to the innocent dead.) He’d wanted to know who–what–he was, and just what evil he might be capable of.

He hadn’t expected, though, to find a village where he’d left only ash. And  he _certainly_ hadn’t expected the man he’d found sleeping in the carcass of Shinra’s oldest research lab.

The things Vincent had told him had been beyond painful to hear. He’d never assumed he was born from something like love, but… he’d cared for professor Gast. Trusted him and the harmony he believed in. Sephiroth had always assumed he was created to help humanity, and that the way he’d turned out was merely some horrid mistake.

To realize otherwise, to understand just what had gone into his creation, had been a blow. To find out he’d had a _mother_ –a real, human mother, so unlike the one he’d answered to before–had been far more painful.

And then to realize she might still be _alive_... it was embarrassing, even now, to admit how strongly he’d reacted.

He’d found Lucrecia only barely a month ago, encased in crystal and entombed within a cave that even two first-class SOLDIERS and the all-but-weightless Vincent had trouble reaching. Vincent had led him and Zack there, or perhaps Sephiroth had led them both–Sephiroth no longer remembered the details. That time was a blurry smudge of desperation and weariness and hope in his memory.

Sephiroth had broken apart the crystal with his own two hands, and the three of them together had pulled her, weak and shaking, from her shell.

The first week she’d spent all but incoherent, caught between the waking world and her feverish dreams. Sometimes, she’d spoken to Sephiroth as though she knew more about him than he did, and other days she seemed unable to recognize him at all.

Vincent had been an unexpected help during that week; he’d stayed by Lucrecia’s side constantly.

The problem with having a human mother, he thought, was that he was completely unsure how to act around one. A father would have been possible–thanks to Professor Gast, he at least had some idea what that was like–but after all this time even a normal mother would have been difficult, and Lucrecia was anything but.

As a scientist and an ex-Shinra employee, she was invaluable. As a parent… well. The two of them had barely discussed their relationship thus far, despite some subtle suggestion on Vincent’s part and some less-than-subtle urging on Zack’s.

Sephiroth had no idea how he felt about her. She seemed to care for him somewhat–at the very least, she didn’t hate him outright. It didn’t make sense to him; he couldn’t reconcile this woman with the one who’d agreed to give birth to a science experiment, and then tried to kill herself as penance for creating him.

She didn’t deny it, and he hadn’t asked her to defend her choices. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he was willing to hear what she might say.

Eventually they would talk, he hoped. But they could do that later, when the world was stable; now was no time for him to have (another) identity crisis.

Sephiroth sighed heavily and slipped out of his bedroll. Sleep obviously wasn’t coming naturally any time soon. He stepped quietly across the room, the worn wood cool beneath his feet, and rummaged in his pack until his fingers closed around a seal materia. Artificial sleep was never as refreshing as the natural sort, but a quick cast of sleepel would at least give him a few hours’ worth.

Before he could return to his bed, though, he was struck upside the head by a deep and overwhelming sense of _wrongness_. It was chilling and choking and, worst of all, it was intimately familiar.

_Jenova._

He scanned the room wildly, trying to remember where he’d set Masamune, only to realize the sword was already in his hand.

This was no good. She was already messing with his head, and she–probably–wasn’t even trying yet.

“Zack,” Sephiroth snarled.

Zack didn’t so much as yawn; he went from a dead sleep to completely awake in the time it took to blink. He grabbed the Buster Sword and rolled out of bed in one fluid motion.

“Sephiroth,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s here.”

Behind him, Lucrecia and Vincent stirred, woken by the commotion.

Zack lowered the tip of the Buster Sword. “Aerith? Where is she?”

Sephiroth shook his head. “The other ‘she’.”

The excitement drained from Zack’s face and was quickly replaced by dread. “How..?”

“I don’t know. But I feel her.”

Three years ago, in the Nibelheim Reactor, Zack had turned Jenova to ash while a trooper–Zack’s friend–pinned Sephiroth to the wall with his own sword. He’d assumed (foolishly; how could he have been so stupid?) that the destruction of her physical body would be the end of her.

And yet she was here, in the City of the Ancients. Taunting him with her presence, daring him to find her.

“Vincent,” he said hoarsely. “If I make any attempt to attack one of you, shoot me.”

Vincent nodded and slipped his gun from his holster. “Understood.”

“Sephiroth,” Zack protested.

Sephiroth glared at him. “I won’t kill anyone else.”

Zack hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it. Just… be careful, okay?”

“I will.” Sephiroth glanced between his three companions. “Okay. Let’s go.”

\---

Her presence prickled under his skin as he followed her trail. Zack, Vincent, and Lucrecia trailed behind him as he walked through the shadowed ruins.

Before long, he found himself in front of one of the buildings they’d explored the day before: the twisted and lopsided conch that had held the fish statue.

Sephiroth blinked as he stepped into the house. The inside of the building was far more brightly-lit than the streets outside. A soft, white light was pouring out from somewhere above, illuminating everything around them.

“What..?” Zack asked.

They walked the winding path upwards, the light growing stronger as they grew nearer to its source. As they reached the top of the building, the three of them stopped as one.

Sephiroth’s jaw didn’t quite drop, but it was a near thing.

“Wow,” Zack said, “This was here all along? Seriously?”

The fish statue had dropped away; where it had gone, Sephiroth didn’t know. In its place was a staircase made of shimmering glass. Each step was suspended, seemingly weightless, in the air. It spiralled down into a cavernous open space, the bottom so far below that Sephiroth could only make out a massive underground lake and the faint shapes of intricate and enormous buildings.

“So this is true Cetra architecture…” Lucrecia murmured. “How amazing.” She  leaned into the hole and gazed out across the structures below. “It must be a temple of some sort.”

Sephiroth walked cautiously onto the first step. It held his weight easily, without so much as a shift. Apparently, this place was built to last.

“Stay close and keep your weapons at ready,” he said. “We’ll be exposed going down.”

“Right,” Zack said, shifting the Buster Sword in his grasp. Vincent brought his firearm into a ready stance and Lucrecia slid two green materia into the bracer on her arm.

They descended together. They had to step cautiously, both because danger could come from any angle and because there was no telling how much weight each step could hold. Sephiroth was acutely aware that at any moment their floor could drop out from underneath them. And all the while the pain in his head was building.

Zack was jumping the gap between two of the steps when he gasped, stumbled, and nearly fell into the void. Sephiroth lunged forward and hauled him backwards using a handful of his shirt.

“What are you _doing_?”

Zack’s eyes were wide. “Look!”

Sephiroth followed the direction of his gaze.

The Cetra had built an altar of some sort that stretched above and across the surface of the lake. It was made of dark gray stone and delicate glass carved in a flower-like design. In its center, lying on the ground, was Aerith.

She was unconscious or dead, Sephiroth couldn’t tell which. It meant trouble either way.

The presence of Jenova was hummed in his head. If she was dead, there could be only one culprit.

If they had failed to defeat Jenova-

If _he_ had failed to defeat her-

and Aerith had been killed as a result, then he was to blame.

“Sephiroth, come on!” Zack said. “We have to get down there.”

He tried to dash past Sephiroth, but Sephiroth grabbed another handful of his shirt and hauled him backwards.

“What are you doing?” Zack snapped, wild-eyed and frantic.

They were still nearly a mile above the ground. There was no time to waste running down the stairs, and the danger of an ambush at their bottom was far too great.

“Trust me,” Sephiroth said. “Please.”

He didn’t expect the words to make much difference, but to his surprise Zack stilled in his grasp. He stared at Sephiroth a long moment.

“Okay.”

Sephiroth released him. Zack took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “...Sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Lucrecia glanced over the edge carefully; Sephiroth wasn’t sure how enhanced her eyesight was, if it all.

“There’s a woman down there.” Vincent answered. “Aerith?”

Sephiroth nodded. “You two, continue down the stairs. Rejoin us at the bottom as soon as you’re able. Zack and I will take another way down.”

A much, much more dangerous way, and that was saying something. But they were quickly running out of time.

“Be careful,” Lucrecia said.

“Of course.”

Sephiroth moved next to Zack and slipped Zack’s arm over his shoulder.

“Hold on tight,” he said.

“Hold on-?” Zack’s question was quickly cut off as Sephiroth threw himself off the edge of the staircase.

They fell quickly. The water below was placid and dark; he could only hope it was as deep as it seemed. His heart was racing almost as quickly as the wind that whipped around them, but he ignored his physical reactions and concentrated on the materia in his bracer. He would have to time this very carefully.

“Holy _shit_!” Zack snarled in his ear.

The lake was nearly upon them. No time to second-guess.

Sephiroth cast.


	2. Lacus Odii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Hokuto!
> 
> (Also, FFVII REMAKE! I cannot believe how excited I am.)

They hit the water feet-first. Even through the twin defenses of the wall spell, the shock of the impact was immense; if he were anything less than a SOLDIER First-Class his legs would have fractured immediately.

Their momentum drove them down beneath the waves, the wall spell forming a protective bubble around them as they sank. He and Zack dipped ten, fifteen, twenty feet below the water before the force of their fall finally ran out. Through the semi-transparent surface of the spell Sephiroth glimpsed an enormous darkness, the water stretching out endlessly around them in every direction. It was a miniature world, thick and lightless, where any sort of creature might thrive.

A moment later, they bobbed back up to the surface. The wall dissipated where it contacted the air, but remained as a thin barrier between them and the water, like a small personal island.

A very ragged personal island, Sephiroth thought, and recast the spell before they could both fall through.

“Are you okay?”

Zack was crouching next to Sephiroth, breathing heavily. He clutched at the barrier like he couldn’t believe it existed. The impact had likely affected him more since he’d had less time to prepare for it.

“One second,” he panted. “I… yeah, I’m okay. _Wow_. That was amazing!” He stood up shakily, one hand one Sephiroth’s coat for support. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“It was a somewhat common retreat tactic during the early days of the Wutai War. Their forces would escape over the waterfalls, and the trail would go cold by the time we were able to climb down or find another path.” He’d never thought it would be useful to him on this flat continent.

“Our people couldn’t follow them the same way?”

“No.” He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. “I forbade them to. I could never in good conscience have authorized such a stupidly dangerous tactic.”

“Well,” Zack said, “I’d be happy to never do that again.” He let go of Sephiroth’s coat, then tested his balance. “Okay, I’m good.”

Sephiroth nodded. “Stay close and move quickly if you don’t want to get soaked.”

“Got it.”

They walked together towards the altar, the shifting barrier beneath them keeping the water at bay. Aerith’s form was obscured by the stone half-walls, but it was concerning that she hadn’t reacted at all to their drop into the lake.

Please, Sephiroth thought, let her be alive. If not for his sake then for Zack’s, and if not for Zack’s sake then for the Planet’s.

Zack dashed onto the land the moment he was close enough, and very nearly flew over the stepping stones leading up to the altar. Aerith -- or her body -- knelt in the center of the chamber, hands linked together and head bowed.

Sephiroth hung back, sick with fear and guilt and anticipation, already certain what Zack would find.

“Aerith!” Zack shouted. Then, quieter: “Aerith?” He leaned in and tentatively brushed one hand against her shoulder.

At first, Sephiroth thought his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps it was Zack’s hand that shifted her, or perhaps guilt was making him imagine movement where there was none. But no -- she shifted, almost sleepily, then opened her eyes and unclasped her hands.

“Zack!” she said, delighted, as though there was nothing strange at all about the situation. “You’re here!”

She hadn’t been sleeping, Sephiroth realized suddenly. She’d been praying. He hadn’t recognized the near obsolete-gesture for what it was; the only devout persons he’d ever known were Wutaian, and their religious ceremonies looked very different.

“You’re okay,” Zack said softly, and swept her into an embrace.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around him in return. “Of course I am, silly!”

Sephiroth sighed and let the tension ebb from him. The relief was like a physical weight being lifted from his body. When they first arrived, he had worried that she would be hostile. Then, when he’d seen her laying on the altar, he’d been certain they’d find her killed. This was a scenario better than he’d even dared to hope for.

No matter what she had or hadn’t done, it wasn’t too late. Things could still be fixed so long as she lived.

He had to believe that.

He glanced up towards the glimmering staircase to see Vincent and Lucrecia still making their way towards them. They wouldn’t be happy about getting halfway down and being forced to turn around -- and Lucrecia would definitely be upset about missing out on a chance to study this hidden Cetra temple -- but it couldn’t be helped. He could still feel Jenova’s presence lurking about, ready to strike at any moment.

He could deal with the _why_ of her presence later. Right now, the important thing was to escape it.

“We need to leave. This place isn’t safe.”

“Right. Sorry.” Zack blinked, shook his head. “Aerith, we need to get out of here, okay?”

“What?” Aerith asked, looking confused. “We can’t leave yet. There’s things we need to talk about.”

“I know,” Zack said. “I couldn’t agree more, actually. But this place isn’t safe right now.”

Aerith frowned and pulled back. “Not safe? Zack, what are you talking about?”

The pain hit Sephiroth like a grand horn. The sudden screaming ache in his head nearly bowled him over, and he clenched at his skull as if he could keep it from splitting from sheer force of will. He knew he was panicking, but he couldn’t calm himself. Jenova’s very being was assaulting him. She so close it was as if he could feel her digging around inside his mind, smothering his every rational thought.

“Zack.” Sephiroth forced the words out from between gritted teeth. “We need to go. _Now_.”

He took a shaking step backwards, forcing himself not to turn tail and run. He hated this overwhelming feeling of weakness; here was an enemy he’d bowed to once before, and one he still had no idea how to fight.

(No, that was wrong. To downplay his shame, to say he’d only bowed to her, was simple cowardice. He’d thrown himself before her, kissed the arches of her feet, invited her into every synapse and electrical impulse that was _him_ merely because he wanted someone he could call his own. Had he expected her to ask, now, for what he’d so freely offered once before?)

Zack glanced back towards Sephiroth. His eyes widened in shock as he saw his condition.

“Aerith, please,” Zack said frantically. He wrapped an arm around her, tried to haul her towards her feet. “You have to trust me, okay? I promise I’ll explain later. Right now, though, we really need to _leave_.”

Aerith stood willingly enough, but when he tried to lead her onto the stepping stones she slipped from his grasp. She stood there, in the center of the pale yellow glass that marked the altar’s arch, looking more like one of the Cetra from the ancient carvings than anything human.

Had her eyes always been so brilliantly green? Had the tilt of her smile always had that strange twist to it?

“I’m sorry, Zack,” she said apologetically, looking down on them both. “But you’re not listening to me.” She held one hand out, palm up, and casually swept her fingers out. “Right now, we need to talk.”

Without so much as a sound, the glittering staircase disappeared.

“No!”

Sephiroth wasn’t sure whether it was Zack or him who had shouted. He could only watch in horror as the distant figures of Lucrecia and Vincent plummeted toward the temple grounds.

“Aerith!” Zack pleaded, looking in horror towards the sky. “Stop that! Save them!”

The world felt like it was moving in slow motion. He fumbled mentally towards the materia in his bracer, desperate for a spell that would save them both. Fire would be no use, he couldn’t cast barrier from such a distance--

And then a dot of bright green light sparked to life on Lucrecia’s wrist. The glow stuttered for a moment, dimmed and brightened once more -- and a great dragon burst into existence.

The creature was easily thirty feet long from tip to tail, with plated scales and a wicked-looking barbed tail. It roared triumphantly as it flapped its clawed wings.

With one giant claw, it snagged Vincent and Lucrecia from the air. Its wings beat gently as it lowered them both to the ground.

About eight feet above the smooth stones it vanished, and Lucrecia and Vincent tumbled the rest of the way to the temple’s floor. He could see Lucrecia’s body trembling; the energy it took to summon a beast with that power must be immense. He’d never even known she had the materia for a summon like that.

Vincent had one arm wrapped around Lucrecia, supporting her, and he looked towards them with something that might have been worry in his eyes.

Sephiroth quickly motioned at him to stay back. The two could provide support just as well from afar, and he didn’t want to risk endangering either of them further

“So!” Aerith said cheerfully, “Can we talk now?”

“Aerith,” Zack said, voice torn between horror and anger. “What -- what was that? What are you doing?” He took a step towards her, then hesitated.

“I really am sorry.” Her voice was perfectly sincere. She clasped her hands together. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, I promise.”

“Is that why you just tried to kill two people?”

“Not just two,” Sephiroth said. “What happened to Midgar was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Aerith looked at Sephiroth for the first time. For a split moment, he saw what looked like anger burning in her eyes, but it slipped away so quickly he couldn’t be sure whether he’d imagined it.

“I never wanted to harm anyone in Midgar.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Aerith frowned. “Please,” she said softly. “Zack, you have to listen to me. I’ve learned so much these past few months.”

Zack quickly glanced at Sephiroth out of the corner of his eye. In response, Sephiroth tapped his middle and index finger against his palm, the movement so slight to be almost invisible.

_Keep her talking_.  
It was a Turk gesture, but there was enough cooperation between their departments that many of the higher-up SOLDIERs had learned it as well. Sephiroth could only hope he was one of them.

Zack seemed to understand what he meant, because he turned back to Aerith and said, “Fine. Let’s talk.”

“Thank you.” She beamed at them both.

She paused for a moment to gather her breath, then spoke.

“The Planet is suffering,” she said. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve been able to hear its screams. Shinra carves it open to construct their cities, then bleeds its wounds dry to power them.”

“We’re aware of the damage Shinra has done to the Planet.”

Admittedly, he’d been doubtful when Bugenhagen had explained his theories; they flew in the face of all established science. But he couldn’t deny what he’d seen -- the viciousness of the mako-addled monsters and the difference between the environments of Wutai and Midgar were proof enough for him.

“It’s more than just ‘damage’. If Shinra was allowed to continue, the Planet would have been bled dry within our lifetimes.”

“And that’s why..?” Zack frowned and ran one hand through his hair.

“I had to do it.” Aerith smiled gently.

Sephiroth scowled, struck by revulsion. He’d desperately hoped he was wrong.

Three months ago, Sephiroth had been woken by the scream of every Reactor siren in Midgar going off at once. All of Shinra Tower had been in chaos, desperately trying to understand what was destroyed and what could still be saved.

Sephiroth had spent most of his life hearing about worst-case scenarios; if the experiment failed, if Wutai won, if he were to disappoint the company. On that day, when one had actually happened, he’d found himself strangely calm. It was though his mind couldn’t process what his body was telling it.

After Nibelheim, Sephiroth and Shinra had lived in an uneasy (and, he knew, unsustainable) harmony. Sephiroth had wanted nothing more than to tear Hojo limb from limb and leave the company forever, but after what he’d learned he was wasn’t willing to leave the remaining SOLDIERs in Hojo’s slimy grasp. The leaders of Shinra had been unwilling to explain their actions in Midgar, and -- no matter how _forcefully_ he’d asked -- unwilling to turn their top scientist over to Sephiroth for questioning. They’d sequestered Hojo in a research lab somewhere within the bowels of the tower where even Sephiroth couldn’t reach and made various subtle (and not-so-subtle) threats towards the rest of the SOLDIERs whenever he demanded access.

Outwardly, they’d been one big happy company, eager and ready to usher Midgar into a new era. Inwardly, they’d been stuck in a cold war, each only one misjudged action away from reaching a boiling point.

Still, when disaster had hit, Sephiroth had been the first they turned to. The President suspected a terrorist attack from Wutai or AVALANCHE and sent him out to investigate. (To see, he’d suspected, just how badly the company was fucked.) But none of the hypotheses had prepared him for what he’d actually seen.

Trees, massive and solid, growing through the cores of each and every Reactor.

Three of the reactors had melted down almost immediately, their systems unable to deal with the foreign substance. The other five had shut down in self-defense and left those who relied on them without running water, electricity, or heat.

Almost a third of Midgar’s population had died that first week before they could begin to bring resources from other cities. Even with outside support, more continued to die every day. The city of Midgar was perishing slowly, and the only clues they’d had were a missing half-Cetra girl and the flash of pink he’d seen fleeing the Number Five Reactor.

It made some sort of twisted sense: the Mako Reactors were destructive and therefore they had to go, no matter how many innocents would die in the process. He could see how a person might come to the conclusion she had.

He just couldn’t see how _this_ person had decided upon that; he couldn’t reconcile the Aerith in Zack’s memories with the woman who stood in front of them now.

“What do you mean, had to do it?” Zack demanded. “Maybe the reactors needed to be shut down, but there’s no reason all those people had to die. If you’d told me, I could’ve…”

“Could’ve what? Betrayed Shinra for me? Become a fugitive?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Zack snarled.

Aerith blinked. For a moment he saw something behind her coldly benevolent smile, something real and human and confused. She looked between them both, lips parted as though she were about to say something.

And then the mask slid back over her face. “You don’t understand,” she said coolly. “My mother told me it had to be this way.”

“Your mother?” Zack asked. He sounded completely baffled. “Aerith, I’ve talked to your mother. She’s worried about you. She wants you to come home.”

Aerith shook her head. “Not Elmyra. My birth mother, Ifalna Gast. She was the last full-blooded Cetra. And-” She swallowed, took a steadying breath. “-She was killed by Shinra when I was young.”

Professor Gast had a _child_? He counted back the years quickly adding what he knew to be Aerith’s age to the date he’d last seen Gast.

There was no reason to be jealous, he told himself. He’d barely known the man. The fondness Professor Gast had treated him with was that of a researcher’s for a successful experiment, nothing more. And yet… realizing that his childhood hero had abandoned him to raise a child of his own was painful to a rather embarrassing degree.

He forced aside the thought. He was an adult. There was no reason to hold hurt feelings over something that had happened so long ago.

“I’m sorry,” Zack said softly. “I didn’t know. But… what? Her last will and testament was for you to murder people?”

Aerith laughed. Her voice echoed strangely about the cavernous room.

“Of course not! Don’t be silly. The Cetra… we’re special. Death isn’t a barrier for us the way it is for humans.” She clasped her hands together as if she were once again going to pray. “A year ago, my mother’s spirit came to me. She spoke to me through the Lifestream and told me that the Planet was sick. That, in order to survive, it needed to gather its power about it once again.”

Her gaze flickered downward; he saw, in the expression on her face, another brief glimpse of her humanity. “I… didn’t believe her at first. I thought she must be mistaken, or that I must have misunderstood. But the more we talked the more I realized she was right. The Planet can’t continue on this way -- there’s just no way for it to support so many people and still survive. If the Planet is going to live, humanity needs to die.”

She spread her hands out, motioning around her. “This temple is special to our people. It’s the closest place to the heart of the world. I needed to come here so that I could ask something important of the Planet.”

None of this was making sense. The Cetra had communicated with him through the Lifestream, but their message had come in twisted and fragmented shards of memory, not the clear communication Aerith claimed to hear. And they might have been willing to fight, but he hadn’t sensed any viciousness in them; he couldn’t imagine the Cetra in the memories being the first to strike even it would save themselves.

Did Aerith’s Cetra blood bridge the gap between life and death and allow her to communicate with her mother’s soul? Could their battle against the Calamity and the decline of the Planet really have changed their people so much that her mother would tell her to tear Midgar down?

A sudden thought hit Sephiroth, so terrible he could hardly imagine it and yet so simple he couldn’t believe it hadn’t come to him before.

The emerald brightness of her eyes. The sudden change in personality and the vast jump in power that came with it. The way she spoke of humanity as though it were disposable. And, most telling, the mother who whispered into her mind about _duty_ and _power_ and _sacrifice_.

The last piece of the puzzle slid into place. An answer as obvious as the headache that still pulsed through his skull.

Oh god, Sephiroth thought despairingly. This really was all his fault.

“Aerith,” he said desperately. “Please, you have to believe me. No matter what that thing tells you, _it’s not your mother_.”

“What?” Zack turned to stare at him, confused. Sephiroth could see the exact moment when he caught up; the blood drained from his face and his mouth dropped open in horror.

Aerith’s smile was forced, tight-lipped. It looked more like a grimace than a grin. “Why did you even come here if all you’re going to do is talk nonsense? I thought you of all people would listen to me, Zack.”

Now that he understood, Sephiroth could easily reconcile the girl Zack had known with the one who stood before them now. Jenova had taken his pride and his loyalty and twisted them into arrogance and slavish devotion. With Aerith, she had taken a different track -- her optimism had become cheerful apathy and her love for others had been warped until it focused only on what the creature found worthy of affection.

It was the nature of the virus, the true sickness of it; you were still the same person, just…corrupted. She took you and broke you and made you beg for more.

When he and Zack had burned the monster’s body within the Nibelheim Reactor, they’d (stupidly) assumed that would be the end of it. They’d thought that she would die when her physical form was destroyed.

But the veins of the Planet were exposed and laid open within the reactor. She must have fled through one of those, injured and desperate, and then…

And then she had found the last Cetra.

Aerith had said she’d started hearing the voices months ago. She must have fought with everything she had to resist for so long against the influence that he’d succumbed to in three days.

Had she told anyone? Certainly she hadn’t said anything to Zack, and Sephiroth couldn’t imagine Tseng brushing something like that off either. No, more likely she had struggled with it alone. Perhaps she’d wanted to prove her worth as a Cetra, or perhaps she’d assumed no one would believe her if she tried to explain.

Either way, it came down to the same thing: Not only had he failed to defeat Jenova, he’d unwittingly fed her an innocent.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Sephiroth said, as calmly as he could manage. “There are people in Midgar who want to see you again.” What had Zack said to him, back in Nibelheim? Those three days were still barely more than a blur in his mind.

“Sephiroth’s right.” Zack’s tone was calm and self-assured, soothing without sounding patronizing. “I miss you, and so does Elmyra.” He chuckled softly. “I think the Turks do too, but who even knows with those assholes.”

He stepped towards her and reached out a hand. “Please,” he said. “Let’s go back, okay? We can find a better way to save the Planet than this.”

Aerith hesitated. “Shinra-”

“Hojo and the president are dead.” They’d been among the first to die when the reactors fell. “And the Turks won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

She stood there for a long moment, staring unblinking at Zack’s outstretched hand. Finally, slowly, she moved towards him.

One step closer, then two, until she was so close that Zack could almost reach out and grab her. He still didn’t move, only waited for her. She reached out one hand to take his --

\--and froze. She looked around wildly.

“You can’t trick me like that!” Her breath came harsh and ragged; she looked torn between paranoia and desire. Her eyes glimmered bright green, almost glowing in the dim light. “I need to protect the Planet. I can’t let you stop me.” She nodded, looking determined. “No matter what it takes, I can’t let the Planet be hurt.”

Sephiroth wasn’t sure whether she was talking to them or herself. He adjusted his grip around Masamune. He didn’t want to harm her, but if it came to a fight he would be ready.

“We don’t want to hurt the Planet,” Zack said.

Aerith smiled suddenly, bright and hopeful and -- knowing what he did now -- almost obscene. He felt as though he could almost see Jenova’s strings burrowing into her, pulling at her mouth like a puppeteer.

“I know you don’t. You just don’t understand, that’s all.” She stepped back into the center of the altar. “That’s always the problem with humanity, isn’t it? They never listen.”

Another bolt of pain slammed into Sephiroth’s head. He hissed and swayed on his feet, willing himself to stay standing. His vision was blurring and the floor seemed to be moving under him.

Above him, Aerith’s head bowed once more. She’d pulled her hair ornament out and she now held it in her clasped hands. Her eyes were half-shut and her hair fell wildly about her shoulders. The bauble in her hands was perfectly round and a strange, pearly white color; it gleamed the same shifting shade as the Cetra’s memories had.

Realization hit him. It was a materia. For what spell, he had no idea, but he didn’t want to wait long enough to find out.

Zack stood in front of her, the Buster Sword half-raised, but he was was obviously unwilling to strike.

There was no time. His mind was unravelling and Zack still hoped and Aerith was gathering energy about her. There was no time to think.

He rushed forward, sweeping Masamune in a broad arc in front of him as he dashed towards Aerith. He heard Zack yell behind him, but he couldn’t pay attention; everything he had was focused on stopping Aerith.

She danced sideways. He should have been able to follow her movement easily, but pain and Jenova’s presence dulled his reflexes. He twisted, trying to reorient himself, and lashed out again.

This time, he felt the strike. Masamune bit, hot and hungry, into Aerith’s side, drawing a line of blood as it went. It was a shallow wound, though, not enough to disrupt her spell, and his head ached worse than ever.

He could barely keep from dropping Masamune, let alone lift it for another strike. His hands felt numb and heavy. He tried to call out to Zack, to beg him to attack, but the words died in his throat.

Jenova’s presence grew until it filled even the air around him. Aerith pressed the materia to her lips, ready to release the spell.

A noise like thunder echoed through the temple.

Aerith cried out in mixed shock and pain. She stumbled and fell against the altar’s half-wall, the white materia falling from her grasp as a bright red bloodstain blossomed across her shoulder.

The pain in Sephiroth’s head finally abated. It wasn’t gone, but it was less enough that he could think once more.

As one, the three of them turned to find the source of the noise.

Vincent stood at the edge of the water, holding the Death Penalty in one outstretched hand. Lucrecia was next to him, still looking exhausted but no longer trembling.

“Stand down,” Vincent said. His voice was tense and clipped and there was something angry in the way he held himself. He had to be very near to unleashing one of his monsters. “Or the next one will go between your eyes.”

Aerith glanced between the four of them. Like this, outnumbered and in pain, she didn’t seem so inhuman.

Sephiroth forced back a twinge of guilt; so long as Jenova whispered in her ear, she would be almost impossible to reason with. This was the only way.

She frowned and pushed herself away from the wall, fighting past her pain to face them standing straight. Her legs shook and one arm hung limply at her side, but she didn’t stumble or fall.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” she said softly and flung herself over the edge of the altar.

Vincent’s gun echoed once more throughout the cavern. His shot ricocheted off one of the temple’s far walls -- he obviously hadn’t expected her to flee.

Sephiroth didn’t even stop to think. He dropped Masamune against the altar’s cobbled floor and dove in after her.


	3. Lacus Mortis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth makes himself a promise.
> 
> Final chapter.

The water was warm and clear. The lake stretched downward into emptiness, blue darkening into black without so much as a hint of the lakebed that must be below them. Aerith was sinking impossibly fast-already she was little more than a smudge of pink-and-red against the darkness.

Underwater, a person’s eyesight could be fooled. Sounds were muffled and heavy. Taste and touch could no longer be relied upon. But Sephiroth’s sense of smell was better than a shark’s, and Aerith’s wounds were all the guidance he needed.

He followed the trail of blood down, swimming further and further from the lake’s still surface.

His ears popped. The water grew colder and colder. His breath burned in his lungs. The water around him became so dark that he could no longer see. And still he followed Aerith downward.

At first, she’d been so far ahead of him that he thought he might not catch up. But he gained on her as he swam-the scent grew stronger and stronger, until he thought he might be able to reach out and grab her if only he could see.

Sephiroth stretched out blindly, grasping for her hair, her clothing, anything. The tip of one finger brushed something strange and soft-her ankle, perhaps, or a piece of her dress. He lunged wildly in the direction of the sensation.

Suddenly, he was buffeted backward. The water around him churned wildly. He had the brief impression of something massively, immeasurable huge swimming past him just before its wake dragged him in.

The current tossed him like a ragdoll. Sephiroth lost all sense of up or down as he was thrown about; the riptide battered the breath from his lungs with an unrelenting fury. It was terrifying, having his strength ripped away from him like this-he more could have fought the force of the water than a gnat could have fought a dragon.

He could only hope that the creature wasn’t planning to eat him.

Finally, the vicious undertow calmed. Sephiroth floated there for a long moment, trying to reorient himself. Panic was hammering against his ribs and his lungs were burning. All traces of Aerith’s blood had vanished, stirred away by the waves.

She was gone. The creature had taken her.

Sephiroth allowed a bit of his remaining air to flee his lungs, felt the way it bubbled against the top of his lip and his cheeks. That direction was up, then.

He forced his bruised body back into motion, willing himself not to pass out.

\---

By the time he broke the surface of the water he was nearly out of strength. Coordinating his limbs was beyond him-he took one gulp of air and sunk again. His hair and his clothing had been soaked through, and they felt heavier than bricks. The shallows were just under his feet, but he couldn’t summon the energy to push off.

Was this, he wondered irrelevantly, how normal humans felt all the time?

It was Zack who waded in. He wrapped one arm over Sephiroth’s shoulder and half-dragged, half-carried him back to land.

“Hey,” he said, “Breathe.”

Sephiroth shuddered. He gasped and choked, spitting water as he tried to speak. “Aerith, she-”

“Come on, just breathe. This isn’t Shinra-I need you more than I need the field report.”

Sephiroth shook his head madly. He’d failed. It was important he tell Zack straight away.

“She’s gone,” he forced out. “I couldn’t catch her.” She’d been carried away by the monster; whether it was of Jenova’s or the Cetra’s making, Sephiroth didn’t know.

“Idiot,” Zack said sharply. “You shouldn’t have gone down so far. What was I going to do if you drowned, huh?” He pulled Sephiroth’s soaking hair back and laid it across his shoulders so its weight was less distracting. “I told you to stop pulling this kind of dangerous stuff.”

Sephiroth felt a small, pleased smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He refused to show it-joy was a completely inappropriate emotion after such a colossal failure-but knowing that Zack had been worried for _him_ as well as Aerith...

Well. Zack had always been overly empathetic. It was an immensely frustrating quality at times, but there was something admirable about it as well.

“Would you like me to cast cure?” Lucrecia asked. She was standing somewhere over his shoulder. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly where.

“No, I’m fine.” As if on cue, he choked up another mouthful of water and bile. He grimaced; he’d hated that taste ever since he was a child. “...Esuna would be appreciated, though, if you have it.”

A moment later, the warmth of the spell washed over him, easing the weakness in his limbs and the burning sensation in his throat and lungs. He took another breath-air, it was air all around him, and he might never get used to that wonderful novelty-and cautiously sat up. No sudden dizziness, no urge to vomit; that was a good sign. “Thank you.”

Vincent shifted uneasily next to Lucrecia, setting the metal of his gauntlet and boots to clinking. “I apologize,” he said. His voice was back to its usual professionalism, lacking any hint of the violence that had layered it before.

That was good, at least-Sephiroth wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with an enraged Hellmasker or Chaos on top of everything else that had happened so far.

“For what?” Zack asked.

“If I’d aimed for the leg instead of the shoulder, she wouldn’t have been able to escape so easily. I misjudged her.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Zack said wearily. “You were trying to stop her from casting that spell. It’s my fault-I should have stopped her before then.” He looked down at the ground, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“ _What_?” Sephiroth protested immediately. He’d been ready to apologize, not to be apologized to. “This is on me; I should have never have allowed Jenova the freedom to possess Aerith in the first place.”

All of this-the deaths in Midgar, Aerith’s torment, Zack’s pain-could have been avoided if only he’d killed that monstrosity properly when the chance had been in front of him. He’d failed in even that; Hojo was probably laughing in his grave right now.

“Well,” Lucrecia said dryly, “ I’m certainly not about to break the chain; let it be known that I also take complete responsibility for this.”

Zack laughed, tired but genuine. “Lucrecia’s right. We’ll have plenty of time to pass out blame once we’re out of this place.”

“That... poses its own problem,” Vincent said, sounding almost awkward. He pointed toward the temple’s exit, at least two miles above the ground and completely out of reach.

The staircase, it seemed, had not returned in Aerith’s absence.

In the movies, the soldiers (or, more often than not, SOLDIERs) always had a witty rejoinder for when a scenario went horribly wrong, some quippy line they could pull out when the situation got dire to reassure the audience that everything would be all right.

Sephiroth was sure he should have been able to come up with one-certainly he’d never have a chance like this again. But, staring at an opening that was currently more a distant pinprick of light than a door, all he could think to say was a heartfelt, “ _Fuck._ ”

\---

“Can you believe,” Zack said tiredly, “that it’s only eight in the morning?”

It seemed almost impossible. Sephiroth felt as though they’d spent forty-eight hours within the temple rather than just four.

It had taken them a frustratingly long time to make it out. Lucrecia lacked the energy to summon the dragon Bahamut again so soon. Sephiroth was the only other person with magic that might be strong enough to bring it forth, but summoning while in a compromised mental state was incredibly dangerous. Right now, he didn’t trust himself not to mess it up.

(Zack’s suggestion, that they all try very hard to piss Vincent off and then beg Chaos for a lift, went completely and unanimously ignored.)

Eventually, Sephiroth and Lucrecia had decided to cast ice and gravity in combination, drawing water from the lake to make a usable (if frighteningly unstable) tower-like path towards the exit. Climbing the tower had taken them even longer; Sephiroth had been worried it might melt under them before they could escape.

They’d silently agreed not to stay in The Forgotten Capital any longer. Jenova’s presence had fled the place, but its silence and stillness was grating to Sephiroth after everything he’d learned. It felt as though he were standing in a graveyard.

The morning sunlight was only beginning to peek through the canopy of the Sleeping Forest. It wasn’t much more lively than the city, but the forest’s quiet felt far more natural. Every so often he would hear the warning call of a bird or the rustling of an animal wandering through the bush.

It would be a relief to make it back to the Bone Village. He was looking forward to the prospect of being in a proper, living city once more.

The people there didn’t care for Shinra and disliked him by association, but by this point the mundaneness of that hostility was almost a plus. They didn’t hate him because he was the child of Hojo, because he’d burned a village to the ground, or because he’d unleashed an alien on an unsuspecting planet. No, they hated him because Shinra’s sanctions on explosives made it harder for them to dig. It was incredibly novel for him.

Once they reached the town, he would have to call Tseng and inform him of the situation. He was the closest thing to a leader Shinra had right now, and the only person within the company Sephiroth still contacted. The city was in a state of emergency, with power sources and important resources being diverted into it from wherever possible. Now it looked like Midgar wouldn’t be getting its reactors back any time soon, if ever.

He wondered how the Turks would take the news.

Zack walked next to Sephiroth, Buster Sword slung over one shoulder. Lucrecia followed a few steps behind them and Vincent a few ahead. They were all closer together than was strategically sound, but it wasn’t as though they were likely to be attacked here. And anyway, Sephiroth found their company comforting after the lightless void of the lake.

Zack rolled the white materia in his palm as he walked. He’d plucked it from the floor of the altar before they left-Sephiroth wasn’t sure if he wanted it for strategic reasons or as a memento of Aerith.

“Lucrecia,” he asked, “do you know anything about this materia?”

“Only a little,” Lucrecia said. “In the stories of the Ancients, there were two materia that could only be used by those with certain qualities. The black materia was instrument of destruction: It could destroy even the most powerful enemies, but at a high cost. The white materia was an instrument of salvation: It could heal according to the caster’s desire, but required an immense focus.”

“An immense focus...” Zack looked at the materia. “Guess that explains why I can’t get anything from it then.”

“Well, in fairness, the pair was designed by and for the Ancients. I’m not certain they’re something a human could even attempt to use.”

“But if the white materia is meant for healing,” Zack asked, “then what was Aerith doing with it down there? It sure didn’t seem like she was planning anything good.”

Lucrecia shrugged. “Folklore was my hobby, not my area of study. I couldn’t tell you more than that.”

“Healing…” Sephiroth couldn’t stop turning the word over in his head. “In the temple, Aerith kept talking about the Planet needing to be saved.”

“She’s not _wrong_ , exactly.” Zack frowned. “But I doubt Jenova has actually turned into an environmentalist.”

“Jenova told me something similar,” Sephiroth said.

Zack stared at him in surprise. He rarely talked about what Jenova said to him in Nibelheim, even with Zack, and Sephiroth didn’t think he’d ever mentioned this part. It hadn’t seemed particularly important at the time.

“She said…” He paused, feeling embarrassment and shame curl in his gut. “She told me that I was the last Cetra. That humanity was a disease, and it was up to me to cleanse the Planet.”

(He remembered little of what actually happened then, but he still remembered what she’d whispered to him. She was an Ancient, violated and imprisoned by humanity. She was destined to rule the Planet, and only he could help her.

Sephiroth had always thought he was a reasonable person, and yet he’d accepted it all so easily. Part of him had always been waiting for Jenova-no, for anyone who would come along and tell him he was worthy. Perhaps that was why he’d bowed to Shinra for so long.)

“Oh, yeah,” Zack said. “I remember that.”

Sephiroth blinked. “You do?”

“You were sort of, uh, monologuing a lot?” Zack waved his hand vaguely. “About the Planet and the Ancients and Shinra and all that. I didn’t really get most of it.”

Well, that was certainly embarrassing.

“That’s interesting, though,” Lucrecia said, her head turned consideringly. “Two different hosts, two different approaches, and yet her goal hasn’t changed.”

“She wants humanity dead,” Vincent said.

Sephiroth had been with tempted by the talk of righteousness and sacrifice and the thought of pleasing _Mother_. Aerith, it seemed, was operating under the idea that she would be saving the Planet by returning humanity to the Lifestream.

“But why?” Zack asked. “It was the Cetra who killed her, right? Why does she even care about us?”

“Maybe she hates us for experimenting on her. Maybe she just really likes murder.” Lucrecia smiled joylessly. “I can’t even begin to try and psychoanalyze such an alien creature.”

“We need more information.” Vincent, of course.

“Well,” Zack said thoughtfully, “I can think of someone who might have that.”

Sephiroth scowled, and Zack laughed. “Oh come on, Bugenhagen’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t say he was.” There wasn’t anything _wrong_ with the man, no mannerism or opinion he could point to as being the source of his dislike. Nevertheless, Bugenhagen’s personality grated on him, pure and simple.

Vincent turned to look at them. “Bugenhagen’s still alive?”

“What, you know him?”

“He was… well-known amongst the Turks, back in the day.” The twitch in Vincent’s eye looked very much like annoyance.

Sephiroth could picture it easily: the weight of the Turks, backed by a newly-expanding Shinra empire, against the stubbornness and calculated obliviousness of Bugenhagen. There could be no question as to who’d won that fight.

Well, Sephiroth thought, perhaps he could grow to like Bugenhagen after all.

“He doesn’t like a day over two hundred,” Zack said cheerily. “And he’s got a grandson, too. Real cute kid.”

“His ‘grandson’ is over _fifty years old_.” And some sort of dog, he wanted to add, but mentioning that felt a bit hypocritical considering his own genetics. Better to let Vincent and Lucrecia discover that on their own.

“Still, cute kid. And Bugenhagen was pretty helpful when we first came to him. I think he’ll talk to us some more if we ask.”

That, at least, was true. After the attack on Midgar, Sephiroth had taken the opportunity to finally break ties with Shinra and seek out answers on his own. He’d come to the man for information on the disaster and himself, half-expecting to be turned away at the entrance to Cosmo Canyon.

Bugenhagen, though, had shown none of the judgement or hatred Sephiroth had expected from a longstanding enemy of Shinra. He’d been cryptic, certainly, but Sephiroth had detected no malice or attempt to manipulate in his half-answers. And the information he’d given them, incomplete as it was, had proven useful.

“Bugenhagen it is, then,” Lucrecia said.

“Bugenhagen it is,” Zack echoed. He frowned. “I just hope he can help us.”

He could see all-too-easily what Zack was thinking. Every moment they spent gathering information was another moment Aerith spent trapped in Jenova’s clutches, another moment the people of Midgar spent in fear of another attack. There was so much more resting on them than Sephiroth could have imagined, and the future felt dangerous and uncertain.

“Even if he can’t, we’ll find someone who will.” Sephiroth hesitated for a moment-perhaps the gesture was too informal, perhaps Zack wouldn’t want this comfort from him -before brushing a hand against Zack’s shoulder. “I promise, we won’t give up on saving Aerith. No matter what it takes.”

“Agreed,” Lucrecia said softly. Vincent nodded, short and sharp.

Zack smiled. “Thanks, both of you.”

He reached out towards Sephiroth. For a moment, Sephiroth thought Zack was going to return the gesture, but instead he grabbed Sephiroth’s opposite shoulder and pulled him into a brief, one-handed embrace.

“And thanks, Sephiroth,” he said warmly.

Sephiroth hid his fluster with a scowl. “I hope you realize you just nearly impaled me on that iron slab of yours.”

Zack glowered. “Just because you have no appreciation for proper Corel _artistry_...”

“ _Artistry_ has nothing to do with it. The blade simply isn’t balanced properly,” Sephiroth scoffed.

This was a familiar argument, and he let himself be drawn into it as they walked. It was an escape from the uneasiness that still pulled at his gut.

There was so much he still had to do, for himself and for Aerith and for those who had died at his and Jenova’s hands. This time, he wouldn’t fall to her. This time, he wouldn’t leave her free to escape.

This time, he would destroy her.

He was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to be finally posting this! Comments, kudos, and concrit are always appreciated - also, if you'd like, come talk to me on [Tumblr](masutrout.tumblr.com) or [DW](john-egbert.dreamwidth.org). I'm always happy to chat FFVII.
> 
> Next chapter will be up sometime next week.


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